


The Fluxweed Solution

by MagicalDragon



Series: Queer Headcanon Fics [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Puberty, Queer Themes, Trans Male Character, Trans Ron Weasley, Transitioning Magic, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalDragon/pseuds/MagicalDragon
Summary: Ron was the son his mother hadn’t wanted, or so it felt at times.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley & Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley & Weasley Family
Series: Queer Headcanon Fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209288
Comments: 43
Kudos: 287
Collections: HP TransFest 2020





	The Fluxweed Solution

**Author's Note:**

> Given that this fic takes place in the 90s, the word "transsexual" is used as the default word for trans. Partially inspired by the prompt: 
> 
> _Trans boy!Ron and his complicated relationship with his parents (Molly in particular) and maybe feeling like his mom doesn’t love him as much as she loves his siblings (specifically Ginny)_

Ron was the son his mother hadn’t wanted, or so it felt at times. 

After five sons, Molly Weasley had been desperate for a daughter. When she had two within a year of each other, or thought she did, she had been overjoyed. Ron had been told the story, many times, but the older he got, the tighter it made his stomach knot itself together. 

He’d realised early on, for which he was thankful. Coming out to his mum at 10 was terrifying, but the thought of coming out at Hogwarts seemed impossible to him. Not that he had thought of it in those terms, but he knew he didn’t want to be known as a girl, and once he entered Hogwarts, it seemed to him who he was would be settled forever. 

"Mum, I don't want to be a girl," he'd told her one day, clutching his pant legs painfully.

Molly stopped her work for a moment, then turned towards him.

"Why do you say that?" she asked carefully. 

Ron tensed up, but resolved to stand his ground.

"I'm not a girl, mum. Can't we just say I'm your son when I go to Hogwarts?"

Molly considered him for a bit.

"This isn't something your brothers have put in your head, is it?"

Ron shook his head wildly. 

“You’re sure?”

Ron nodded just as wildly. Molly sighed.

"Okay then. I'll talk to your dad when he comes home," she said and turned back to her cake batter. "If you help me finish this, I'll let you have the first slice."

And Ron had helped, and had gotten the first slice, and when Arthur came home, Ron had looked at Molly expectantly, but there had been dinner and other things to discuss, and so Ron found himself hiding on the stairs, listening to their conversation.

"It's not such an unusual thing, is it?" he heard Arthur say.

"No, but… she's just so young."

"I know, Molly… but maybe it's easier this way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we'll have to explain to the family, of course, but she won't have to explain to anyone else, if we let her do this now. I don't imagine this is the sort of thing that just goes away, do you?"

"I don't know, Arthur… I just worry she'll regret it, and then she will have to explain at school."

"Don't you think it's better to cross that bridge if we get to it? This is what E– Did she say what she wanted to be called?"

"No… I don't know if she's thought about it. Maybe I didn't give her enough space to talk, I… Of course you're right, Arthur. I'm afraid I'm handling this badly. I just… I always wanted... I never expected..."

"I know, dear. Neither did I. But you took her seriously, I think that's the most important part, right?"

From his spot on the stairs, Ron privately agreed.

He didn’t quite remember how they agreed on the name “Ronald”, but he liked it. Well, he liked “Ron”, “Ronald” was a bit old and formal and he only really heard it when Molly was upset. It was a family name, he knew that much. One of his great-grandfathers had been called “Ronald”. He supposed it might just be what he would have been called anyway, if he’d been born a boy. Or born with boy parts, at any rate – he reckoned he’s always been a boy, regardless of them. 

Ginny more or less agreed.

“Did you know I’m a boy?” Ron asked her one day while they were playing with Quidditch figurines. 

“Is that what mum and dad have been whispering about?” she asked and Ron nodded.

“Boys are dumb and you’re dumb so of course you’re a boy.”

“I’m not dumb!” Ron protested. 

“You don’t like the Holyhead Harpies, that makes you dumb,” she said, making Gwenog Jones fly circles around his Chudley Cannons figurine. 

Once the term was out, Fred, George and Percy came home from Hogwarts and Bill and Charlie took their summer breaks to coincide with the school holiday. When all the older brothers had gotten home, their parents gathered them in the living room. Ron and Ginny had been told to stay in their rooms, but had instead snuck down the stairs to listen in.

Charlie took the whole thing in stride. 

“It’s been known to happen,” he said casually after Molly had finished explaining. 

Bill soon took the same attitude. 

“Seems you can’t escape getting more sons, mum,” he laughed. 

“What do you mean?” Percy demanded. “How can she be anything but a girl?” 

“Perce…” Bill started, exasperated. 

“How are people gay?” Charlie asked. “It’s the same thing. These things happen.” 

“It’s not the same thing,” Percy argued.

“Whatever the case, your mum and I have decided to do as Ron wants, and we need you all to support that, okay?” 

Each of their brothers had said some version of “yes” to that, and then Ron and Ginny had hurried up the stairs to avoid being noticed as the meeting disbanded and their brothers made it to their rooms.

Fred and George, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole conversation, were the first to seek out Ron. 

“We hear you’re our brother now,” Fred said. 

“Guess you always tried to play with us for a reason,” George said. 

Ron’s ears turned red. 

“I didn’t always try to play with you!” he protested.

“Of course you did,” Fred said. “Although, come to think of it, so did Ginny. She’s not a boy too, is she?” 

“No,” Ron said, though he didn’t really know. He didn’t think she was. 

“Anyway we’ve been thinking,” George said. “We want to play Quidditch during the break and now that you’re a boy you can be the keeper.” 

“Why do you have to be a boy to be a keeper?” Ron asked, thinking of Ginny’s Holyhead Harpy figurines. 

“Do you want to play or not?” Fred asked and Ron nodded eagerly. 

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the hero Ron had grown up in awe of, was the first person who only knew Ron as _Ron_. Ron didn’t tell him, and he never questioned it. It was easy, that first year. Ron was just one of the boys, that was all there was to it. Percy almost messed up his name a few times, but even he refrained from telling anyone about it. It was… simple. 

Although… almost every letter he got was written in Arthur’s hand, that first year. It was always signed as being from both parents, of course, Arthur constantly wrote “we” and maybe Molly was just busy, maybe his brothers received the same type of letters this year, although he had seen her write them herself in prior ones… maybe... 

Molly didn’t treat him the same, that summer break. She spoke to him differently, looked at him differently. But maybe that was just because he wasn’t the same, after having been to Hogwarts, after having made friends with Harry and Hermione. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe. 

In second year, Ron got his first period. 

It’d been a while since he’d cried in a bathroom stall. 

He didn’t know what to do. He’d heard mum mention them, of course. She’d told him, before all this, what puberty was. Percy’s voice had been funny, and she’d told him why, then mentioned that he and Ginny would experience something a bit different. But that was years ago, and vague, meant to satisfy a child’s curiosity, not prepare them for the practicality of it. 

So… he knew you’re supposed to do something with the bleeding, has seen girls discreetly handing each other something, talking in low voices about the whole business, but he wasn’t quite sure _how_. 

In the end, he stuffed toilet paper in his pants and walked back to his friends. 

“What took you so long?” Hermione complained. “We’re going to be late for Transfiguration!” 

“We’ll make it if we hurry,” Harry said and so they hurried along. 

They did make it in time, just barely. McGonagall sent them a sceptical look over her glasses, but didn't comment. Ron barely managed to pay any attention that whole class, so preoccupied was his mind with what was going on in his pants. 

Luckily, it was their last class of the day, and soon enough Harry left them for Quidditch practice. Hermione started to go on about some assignment or another, but Ron didn’t listen. He shot look after look around them, till he spotted an empty classroom and pulled her inside. 

“What are you doing?!” Hermione exclaimed. 

Ron hushed her, then spoke: 

“I need to talk to you!” 

“What?” 

“I…”

Ron could feel his whole face heating up.

“ _What-do-you-do-when-you-have-your-time-of-the-month_.”

Hermione looked perplexed for a moment, then, as what Ron had said sunk in, her whole face heated up, too.

“I’m not discussing that with a boy!” she hissed. 

“I’m… I’m not a boy,” Ron said. “Or, well, I _am_ , but…”

Hermione was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“I was born as a girl, alright?” It didn’t feel right, as he said it, but he didn’t know how else to explain. “And I have the… you know…”

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him. 

“So… you have a girl’s body, but you want to be a boy?” 

Ron nodded vigorously, though that didn’t feel quite right either. 

“It’s called being transsexual!” Ron said, a bit pleased with himself for knowing something Hermione didn’t. 

Hermione frowned. She clearly didn’t like that she hadn’t known. 

“It’s a muggle term,” Ron continued. “Dad picked up a muggle book about it.” 

Hermione looked thoughtful.

“Do you have that book?”

“What?” 

“Do you have that book with you?”

“What? No! It’s at home.”

Hermione nodded, a far off look in her eyes. When she didn’t say anything, Ron was reminded of why he’d even told her this in the first place.

“So, uh... do you… do you have something I can borrow for…?”

“What do you– _Oh_. Yeah, I can give you some… but you should talk to Madam Pomfrey about it.”

Ron nodded. He did not want to talk to Madam Pomfrey about it. He really, really didn’t. And he had no real intentions to, not when he could ask Hermione, instead. But for now, he just nodded. 

“Well, come on, then,” Hermione sighed and they started making their way back to the Gryffindor common room. 

“By the way, Ron,” Hermione said. “I really think you should write your mum.”

Ron didn’t want to do that, either. 

In the end, Ron didn’t tell Molly till he was home on summer break. And not until it was strictly necessary. His parents had enough to see to, with how weird Ginny had been ever since they got her out of the Chamber of Secrets. Ron was better off just dealing with things on his own, he’d decided. Well, until he went to pee and noticed blood in the bowl. 

“Mum, where do you have…!” he began, but immediately aborted the sentence when he noticed Percy and George sitting at the dining table with her. 

“What is it, dear?” 

Ron looked from one brother to the other, his face heating up. 

“Can you just come to my room for a minute?!” He yelled shrilly, before running back up the stairs without waiting for an answer. 

Molly followed him. 

“What is it, Ron?” she asked, his name finally beginning to sound natural in her mouth. 

“Where do you have the… for the… your monthly…” 

Comprehension dawned on Molly’s face. 

“You got your period?” 

Ron just nodded. 

“Ron!” She exclaimed. “You should have told me! How could you not tell me? I know you want to be a boy, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore these things! I thought it’d be a year yet, at least, really… But you got what you needed at Hogwarts?”

Ron nodded again, too uncomfortable for words. 

“That’s good, that’s… anyway, I’ll show you where I keep the pads, come along.”

Getting his period was not the last of Ron’s puberty-created problems. Not long into his third year at Hogwarts, Ron noticed, to his horror, that he had started to grow breasts. He’d taken a shower in the dormitory bathroom and found himself staring at his naked body in the mirror over the sink. 

“Ron!” Dean shouted. “Are you done already? I need to take a piss!” 

“Just hang on!” Ron shouted back. 

He stepped a few steps closer to the mirror. Yeah, they were definitely there, those… meat sacks. Not noticeable, not yet, but… It couldn’t be long, now. Well, he didn’t know how fast these things got underway, did he? Maybe it took longer than he thought. Still, though, he need to figure something out. Sooner rather than later. 

After that day in the shower, Ron was itching to ask Hermione, but he still hadn’t told Harry anything, and this wasn’t the time to do it, not when Harry had some murderous lunatic to worry about and not when Ron didn’t have it under control. Once Harry had left for Quidditch practice, Ron finally got Hermione alone. They were sitting in the corner of the Common Room, Hermione was doing Charms homework and Ron was pretending to be writing his essay for potions. 

“D’you know anything about self-transfiguration?” 

Hermione frowned and looked up from her pergament. Slowly, comprehension spread on her face and then she just stared at him. 

“Ron, _no_.”

“No, you don’t know or no, you won’t tell me?” 

“No, you’re far too young to attempt self-transfiguration!” Hermione hissed. “Not to mention, you’re not exactly a genius at transfiguration in the first place, are you?”

“Cheers.”

“All I’m saying is that it’s very advanced magic. You shouldn’t even be thinking about attempting that! All you’ll accomplish is sending yourself to the Hospital Wing, and that’s hardly going to help, is it?”

“What if you do it?” 

Hermione looked at him like she wanted to yell at him. 

“It’s still _human transfiguration_!” She whisper-shouted, conscious of the other students around yet clearly infuriated by him. “It’s some of the most advanced transfiguration there is, I’m pretty sure you need a _license_ to do it or something! It’s a _heavily regulated field!_ I’m not going to just… _wave my wand around and hope for the best!_ ” 

Ron made a face.

“I mean, ideally you’d know what you were doing. What else is an O is transfiguration for, really?” 

“You’re utterly impossible.”

Ron sighed and threw his head back on the chair. 

“You tell me how I deal with this, then.” He gesticulated vaguely at his chest.

“It’s barely visible…”

“Won’t stay that way, though, will it.”

Ron stared at the common room ceiling, with its elaborate tapestry of knights and wizards and wished that magic really was as simple as he’d thought it was when he was little. He wished he’d known he was a boy, when he was little enough that he still did spontaneous magic. Maybe then, he could have changed all of this, just by wanting it enough… 

“Maybe…” Hermione sounded hesitant. “Maybe you could try some sort of illusion charm, instead? You’d have to keep casting it, though… And… I don’t really know that much about illusion magic...” 

Ron sat up properly again. 

“Hermione,” he said seriously. “Will you help me find a book about illusion charms?”

It worked. It actually worked! It had taken weeks to get right, but Hermione had helped Ron find a book, and helped him locate a spell in it he could use, he’d practiced it every time he could believably monopolise the bathroom and it _finally worked_. He no longer had to wear layers every day in an effort to make sure no-one noticed the slight bump that had formed on his chest, he just had to maintain the slight but steady flow of magic to the illusion he had put up. Slowly, as months with only a few hiccups went by, quietly casting the illusion spell in the morning, keeping it up throughout the day and dispelling it at night became such a part of Ron’s routine that he barely thought about it anymore. With time, he barely even noticed the effort needed to maintain the illusion throughout the day. 

Well, until someone decided to drag him leg first through a secret tunnel, that was. The moment a loud, sick crack accompanied white hot searing pain from his leg, the illusion fell away. Not that Ron noticed, at first, far too much was going on. Sirius Black, being right there and an animagus. Professor Lupin, being his friend and a werewolf. Snape suddenly showing up, calling Hermione and Harry all sorts. Scabbers being Peter Pettigrew, who was the true Secret Keeper for the Potters, which made him the true traitor, the true man at fault for Harry being an orphan. The constant pain in his leg, all the while. 

Ron only noticed when he pressed Scabbers – or what he had thought was a rat named Scabbers – to his chest and found that there was no magic in the area. The reveal of Peter Pettigrew came but a few moments after, so he forgot again, for a bit, and afterwards he hoped the situation had been so overwhelming for everyone else present that none of them had had the time to take notice of him, either. Well, didn’t matter if Hermione did, really, but… still. He didn’t like being naked like that, for lack of a better word.

No-one commented on it till the day after. 

When Ron awoke in the hospital wing, he felt much better. Knackered, as he always did after taking a medicinal potion, but far better. His leg barely hurt. He sat up to ask Madam Pomfrey about what had happened while he slept, but his words died on his tongue when he spotted her a few beds over. Professor Lupin was sitting on it while Madam Pomfrey fussed over a few open wounds on his arms. 

“It’s alright, Poppy, I really only came to…” 

“Nonsense! You always did underplay your pain, Remus. I didn’t believe you when you were a boy and I’m certainly not about to do so now.” 

Professor Lupin sighed. 

“I suppose I should have expected as much.” 

Madam Pomfrey fussed over him for a few moments more before she let him get up. When he did, he caught Ron staring. Ron felt his face heat up in embarrassment and was about to look away when Professor Lupin walked over to him. 

“How are you, Ron?” 

“I’m alright…” Ron mumbled, a bit sheepishly. 

Professor Lupin had been his favourite professor, well, ever. Ron had learned more in his class this one year than in the two previous years of Defense Against the Dark Arts put together. Lupin was a good teacher and a kind man who always had an encouraging word ready for his students when they needed it. Ron liked him. But… he was a _werewolf_ . Madam Pomfrey might have closed his wounds, but Ron still remembered seeing him transform the night before. It had been _terrifying_. 

“I’m sorry for… all of it,” Professor Lupin said, perhaps sensing Ron’s apprehension. “You, Harry and Hermione… you shouldn’t have had to get involved in all of that, the way you did. You shouldn’t have had to hear what you did, or… see, what you did.” 

Ron shrugged and looked down, suddenly finding his hands extremely fascinating. 

“It’s alright… It’s not your fault, professor.” 

Ron wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to. The night as a whole? His broken leg? Scabbers really being Peter Pettigrew? Lupin’s Lycanthropy? He supposed none of it was Professor Lupin’s fault, really. Not even the Lycanthropy.

“How’s the leg?” 

Ron shrugged again. 

“Better. Madam Pomfrey said it would heal overnight, but she hasn’t examined it yet. Doesn’t really hurt now, though.”

“That’s good,” Professor Lupin said. 

Ron finally looked up. There was a far away look in the Professor’s eyes. He frowned slightly, thoughtfully, before looking back at Ron again. 

“You should know I’m impressed, Ron.”

“Impressed?”

“It’s not every Third Year who can uphold an illusion charm so consistently. When I was in school, I knew a girl who used a similar spell to hide her acne, but that was in Fifth Year.”

Ron’s face het up. So someone _had_ noticed. He didn’t really want anyone to do so, would prefer it if he could pretend it never happened, or better yet, that no illusion was needed in the first place. But there it was. And slowly, as his slight panic dissipated enough for him to actually consider what Professor Lupin had said, Ron found it in himself to smile tentatively. He didn’t like talking about this, but Professor Lupin was being… casual about it, in a way he wasn’t used to encountering. 

“There’s a potion, you know,” he said. “It’s restricted by the Ministry of Magic, but once you’re of age, I’d imagine…”

“I’m not sure what you’re…” 

“A potion called Fluxweed Solution that changes your outside appearance permanently, once taken over a sufficient period of time,“ Professor Lupin clarified. “Some people stick with illusions, but they’re tricky things, and ministry officials might force you to drop them. Besides… the potion actually _changes_ your body.” 

Ron noticed he was gaping, and made a point to close his mouth.

“I… I didn’t know that was possible,” he said once he’d refound his bearings.“How do you know all of this?”

Professor Lupin smirked, albeit a bit sadly. 

“Well, werewolves mix with all sorts… You’re not the first transsexual I’ve met.”

Ron tensed up at hearing the word spoken, but relaxed again as his mind had time to process the rest of the sentence. 

“I’m… I’m not?” Ron’s voice sounded very small, even to his own ear. 

“No. I’ve known a few, actually. One of them is even a Potions Master now, I believe. He was an apprentice when I knew him…” Professor Lupin drifted off, clearly lost in memories for a few moments. Then he turned to Ron with an earnest smile. “Take it from one person with a secret to another… you’ll be alright, so long as you surround yourself with worthy friends. And I think you already have, haven’t you?” 

Ron nodded, a bit too awestruck to speak. 

Professor Lupin smiled again, then made to leave. 

“Good. Get well soon, Ron.” 

If Harry had noticed anything, he didn’t say anything about it, or act any differently. Ron supposed it was silly to think he would have noticed, really. Just because Ron was obsessed with his own body didn’t mean everyone else was, too, after all. Hermione didn’t comment, either. Not even Madam Pomfrey had commented, but then he supposed he had kept a few layers of his clothes on, even in the Hospital Wing. 

No, what was a far more pressing thought after that evening – well, aside from thoughts of Sirius Black and his wrongful conviction, and of Scabbers really being Peter Pettigrew, and of Lupin being a werewolf, and of Hermione’s time turner, and… all of the important things that had been happening. No, what was a pressing thought aside from all of that was not his illusion slipping, but the idea that he might not have to keep using one at all. Not if there was a potion…

Once he got home to the Burrow and had told his parents of all the important bits, he eventually mentioned the potion to Molly. It didn’t go over well.

“I don’t know, Ron… it doesn’t sound entirely safe. Are you sure it’s a sanctioned potion?” 

“Professor Lupin would hardly have told me about it if wasn’t, would he!” 

“Now don’t shout, young… young man,” Molly chastised. “There’s no need for that, speak properly.”

Ron sighed, then took a deep breath to calm himself. Why did his mum have to be _so annoying?_

“I don’t think Professor Lupin would have mentioned it to me if he thought it was dangerous.” 

Molly hummed thoughtfully. 

“Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t, dear, but Lupin wasn’t teaching you potions, now was he? He probably doesn’t have the full story. 

“But mum, he said it’s restricted by the Ministry, so that must mean they’ve approved it, right? You just need to get permission.” 

Molly sighed. 

“I really don’t know, Ron… I’ll have to talk it over with your dad.”

A few days later, Arthur came home from work and needed to talk to Molly. They went up to their bedroom and Ron snuck after them, sitting down on the other side of the door to listen in on them.

“I talked to Alfred in the Potion Control office about it.”

“And?”

“Well, he hadn’t heard of it, but he looked it up in his journals for me and it _is_ a sanctioned potion.”

Then Professor Lupin was right! He could… he could really…! 

“And it’s safe?” Molly asked. 

“There are no known dangers, no, but…” Oh no. “It was only standardised a few years ago.”

“So there _could_ still be dangers,” Molly said. She almost sounded like she wanted there to be. 

“I’m sure the Office for Potion Control wouldn’t sanction something dangerous…” Yet Arthur didn’t sound entirely convinced, himself. What chance would Ron stand against mum if dad wasn’t even convinced? “It’s a prescription-only potion, though. I’m not sure if they prescribe it to children. Alfred said it wasn’t explicitly forbidden, according to his journal, but he didn’t see any record of it having been done.”

Molly sighed heavily. Ron almost cried. 

“Then that’s it, I suppose…”

“Well, we still ought to try, don’t you think? For Ron’s sake. It’s a lot to ask of a lad that he keeps up an illusion all the time.” 

“If you think it’s for the best…” 

“I do, Molly.”

When Ron was rejected, he almost had the feeling that Molly was pleased with the outcome. 

Arthur had inquired about the proper channels, and had brought him to St. Mungo’s to see some sort of potion specialist. He’d asked Ron a few questions, first with Arthur present then without, then called Arthur back in to tell them both his conclusion. 

“You seem like someone who’s made up your mind, Ron,” the Healer said. “And if you were a bit older, that might be enough, but without special magical circumstances, I’m afraid we can’t prescribe you Fluxweed Solution at this time.” 

Ron almost cried. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, he supposed. Professor Lupin _had_ suggested it for when he was of age, not for right now, but… 

“Does that mean we can contact you again in a few years and the answer will be different?” Arthur asked.

The Healer nodded and set about writing down a note. As he handed it to Arthur, he spoke: 

“When Ron is close to being of age, owl a letter with this note to the hospital secretaries and they will set up a new appointment for you.” 

Ron frowned.

“A new appointment? Didn’t you just say I would have passed the assessment, if I was older? Why do I need a new appointment, then?”

“ _Ron_ ,” Arthur chastised. 

“A lot can happen over 3 years, Ron, I’m sure you understand that.”

Ron didn’t understand that. Not at all. Three more years of daily illusion spells weren’t going to change who he was. All it was going to was make him want the potion _more_ , not less. 

When they got home, Molly understood the Healer’s point of view all too well.

“They have to be sure, Ronald,” she said. “They can’t just prescribe potions like this at the drop of a hat.”

“But we already did the assessment!” 

“I know, dear, but they just want to be completely sure before they prescribe you something so powerful. You just have to be a bit patient. Quidditch wasn’t invented in one day, now was it?”

Suddenly, Ron was no longer sad. He was angry. 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to have it, either!” 

“Ron!” 

“You never wanted another son, anyway! Well sorry I can’t be like Ginny!” 

And with that, Ron legged it up the stairs and slammed his door closed. He threw himself down on his bed and cried and cried, ignored first Molly, then Arthur, then George, of all people, and kept crying until he fell asleep. 

The next morning, he awoke to Molly stroking his hair. 

“Mum…?” he asked, still halfway asleep. 

“Oh, Ron…” she said quietly, sadly. “I don’t want you to be like Ginny. Or like your brothers, or like anyone else but you. I just want you to be happy.”

“You never wanted a sixth son,” Ron mumbled. “You always… you always said how happy you were to…”

To Ron’s shock, there were tears in his mum’s eyes.

“I know what I said, dear. But it doesn’t matter. Children are like wands, see? The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around, and just the same, a parent doesn’t choose their children. Our job is to love the children we have, nothing more and nothing less. Does that make sense?” 

Ron nodded. He was crying a bit, as well.

“Boy or girl, you’re my child and I love you. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. You’re still so young, Ron, so very young. It’s hard to know what you really want at your age. That’s why I understand what the Healer said, see? Because I want you to be safe and happy and not have any regrets.” Molly smiled a little. “Well, no more regrets than we all have, at any rate.” 

Ron wasn’t sure he entirely understood, still. But it was something. It was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn’t mentioned in the books because it wasn’t important to Harry’s journey.


End file.
